


The Prospect of Math

by Marks



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M, Not yet requited crushes, Prank Wars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 16:25:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8334373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marks/pseuds/Marks
Summary: When Cisco's too distracted to pay attention to Netflix, something's definitely wrong.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Don't you think Cisco and Hartley have Netflix dates that they don't know are dates? I do.
> 
> Written for [Hartmon Holidays](http://hartmonholidays.tumblr.com)' 13 Nights of Hartmon's prompt, "Pranks." Prompt 2 of 13, though I've only written 6 (and a half) so far. :D

"Hey. What's eating at you?" Hartley asked. They were two hours into their Netflix marathon and while it was his second time through Stranger Things, Cisco hadn't seen all of it yet. So Hartley didn't really get why he kept looking over and catching Cisco wearing a thoughtful, faraway expression instead of watching the show. He also didn't really get why he kept looking over at Cisco often enough to _notice_ his expression. Or rather, he did, but he wasn't ready to accept the reason why yet. It was inconvenient and Hartley didn't do well with inconvenience.

Cisco grabbed the remote and paused just as Eleven was about to kick a whole lot of telekinetic ass, and he didn't even seem the least bit bothered by it. Something was clearly very wrong with him.

"Okay, so I've been working on a problem," Cisco confessed. "Specifically, a math problem that's been bugging me."

Hartley sat up straighter and tried not to look too excited at the prospect of math. 

"This has been keeping me up at night, you don't even know."

"Go on," Hartley said eagerly.

"Okay. So." Cisco bounced a little on the couch cushion. "The thing is, Barry is so fast that he can completely TP a house, get shaving cream all over a lawn, and fill a mailbox with rotten eggs before I can even yell 'Mischief Night!' at him. So how the hell can I ever do anything fast enough to win a prank war against him? I keep running simulations and failing."

Hartley tried not to burst out laughing. It was really difficult, considering how serious Cisco made it sound. But honestly? A prank war?

Still, Cisco looked so earnest about the whole thing, and Hartley was really working on his personality flaws. He had a lot left to learn, but he already knew that laughing in your friend's — ex-coworker's — ally's — _whatever_ 's face fell on the side of Reverting to Jerk Hartley. Cisco was usually really quick to tell him whenever that happened, and when he went long enough without doing that, Cisco invited him over for Netflix nights at his apartment. Hartley didn't want to mess that up; he'd just gotten Cisco's cat to trust him.

"So you got into a prank war with Barry, but you don't know how to win?"

"Yes," Cisco said impatiently. "Keep up."

Hartley shook his head. "I'm kind of disappointed, Cisco."

Cisco wrinkled up his nose in confusion and it was cute. Oh god, it was _so_ cute. Hartley suddenly knew how deeply, truly fucked he was. Well, or not, as it were. "Why?" asked Cisco. "Because it's 'immature' or 'beneath me' or whatever other snobby thing was about to come out of your mouth?" He used air quotes and everything.

"Do you really think so little of me?" he said. "No, I'm disappointed because you're not using that big AV club nerd brain of yours."

"How did you know I was in the AV club?"

Hartley crossed his legs and leaned forward. "Cisco. Cisquito. Mr. Ramon. Of you and Barry, which of the two of you is the one who designed his supersuit? Who controls his guidance systems, all his tech? Who could have Barry Allen eating out of the palm of his hand, if he just played his cards right?" He didn't add the part where if Cisco played his cards right, he could probably have nearly anyone eating out of the palm of his hand, present company included.

Cisco's eyes lit up, and Hartley could almost see his brain opening up pathways of possibility. "So you're saying I could take Barry down just by him messing with his stuff and sending him out on patrol. I could set up a million pranks!"

"I'm saying you could make Barry's poor little head spin before he even remembers you also have superpowers, and that he's lucky you two play on the same team." Hartley dared reaching out to pat Cisco's hand. Cisco looked down at their hands, then up too quickly for Hartley to change his expression, which was terrible because Hartley definitely had hope written all over his face and that was embarrassing. He tried pulling away his hand, but Cisco stopped him.

"Thanks for that," Cisco said, making sure Hartley met his eyes as he turned over his hand and laced their fingers together. "I'm glad you're here." 

There was a time not that long ago where neither of them would have been caught dead saying that, but right here and now, Hartley was pathetically grateful. Maybe he was the one in the Upside Down.

Cisco picked up the remote again and started up where they left off. He didn't let go of Hartley's hand.


End file.
